


your hands protect the flames

by achillesapologist



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Hades (Video Game 2018), The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Fluff, Inspired by The Fall of Icarus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Pelion Fic, Stargazing, mount pelion, mt pelion, sappy boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 22:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30112677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achillesapologist/pseuds/achillesapologist
Summary: Patroclus thinks he’s about to melt from the warmth drumming through his body. He thinks of Icarus and wonders if this is what he felt like when he reached the rays of the sun.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Hades Video Game), Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles), Achilles/Patroclus of Opus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	your hands protect the flames

Patroclus thinks he’s about to melt from the warmth drumming through his body. He thinks of Icarus and wonders if this is what he felt like when he reached the rays of the sun. He decides this must be it, for Achilles’ twinkling laugh, sun gleaming against his golden hair, must be what Icarus felt as the wax melted from his wings. But, unlike Icarus, Patroclus wouldn’t fall. He wouldn’t fall, for he had Achilles. 

With Achilles, Patroclus feels as invincible as all the great heroes and legends that came before them. 

It’s warm enough that night to lay out and star gaze after dinner. Patroclus follows Achilles to a clearing. The small meadow on the mountain sees more sunshine and the snow has melted mostly.

It’s an early spring day, the ground barely thawing. The river is still frozen and pelts hang around their shoulders. Flowers and blades of grass are sprouting, pushing their way through despite the chill.

Achilles lays out a large pelt for them to lay on and pulls Patroclus down with him with a laugh. Patroclus, not backing down, laughs and wrestles right back. Even through the darkness and the midnight black sky, Patroclus feels as though he has the sun right next to him. Achilles is warm, his arms wrapped around Patroclus. He kisses the top of Patroclus’ head, nuzzling his face into the unruly curls. 

Usually, Patroclus is pointing out the constellations while they laid in the rose quartz cave. He’s glad the weather has warmed enough for stargazing. He can stare at the stars each night and never tire of their beauty. He feels the same with Achilles. A thousand times he has gazed upon him, while he lays in his arms, looking at the night sky. And each time, he feels the same warmth, the same radiance when he looks at Achilles.

“Heracles,” Patroclus points out the constellation that has made an appearance that cloudless night, “there’s Kornephoros, the brightest in the constellation.”

Patroclus thinks Achilles must be the brightest star in their little corner of the world, their very own constellation.

Achilles runs his fingers through Patroclus’ hair, as he settles on his chest.

“You can’t see the sky like this,” Achilles says with a laugh.

“It’s alright, I’m comfortable,” Patroclus replies, wrapping his arm tighter around Achilles to prove his point.

“Remember when Chiron told us the story of Hercules? How he went mad,” Achilles says after a moment.

“Yes,” 

How can he forget? It burnt in his mind often. 

“I would have known. I would’ve known if it were you,” Achilles murmurs, fingers pausing in Patroclus’ curls.

“I know. I would know you even in madness,” Patroclus pushes himself up on his elbow, his free hand curling around Achilles’ chin.

Patroclus’ heart swells and fills with adoration, he doesn’t believe they can fall. They won’t fall like all the great heroes before them because Achilles isn’t them. He is unerring where other mortals aren’t. Patroclus is glad for this aspect of godhood Achilles carries, it means it will be them for as long as Achilles would have him.

Sometimes Patroclus worries that godhood might actually be feasible for Achilles. He is the greatest warrior to ever walk the earth as a mortal. How could the best of Greeks not have the option to be a god? He’s so golden, Patroclus can almost see him as a god.

Almost. Achilles is kind where gods aren’t. Gentle where gods aren’t. Human where gods aren’t. Patroclus tries to imagine aristos achaion as a god, but the image can never procure in his mind. It remains foggy compared to the sharp beauty of his Achilles.

Patroclus kisses Achilles, soft and slow, like honey. He feels no rush, just the fire Achilles lights inside of him. Languid and gentle, like a wave lapping at the shore. He pulls away to catch his breath and indulges in this moment. Achilles’ golden hair spreads around him, eyes still closed. His lips parted, sharing the same breath as Patroclus. 

Patroclus rubs his nose against Achilles’, eyes full of adoration.

It makes Patroclus think of when they were younger in Phthia. Days where they ran along the beach, as happy and carefree as they are today. But now, Patroclus can kiss Achilles freely, can run his gaze upon him, can hold him close at night. 

Dizzily, Patroclus thinks he should be thanking a god for this miracle. Though the only god he’d ever worship is Achilles.

“Are you happy?” Achilles asks.

“Yes,”

“Happiest when you’re with me?”

This makes Patroclus laugh, tipping his head back and vibrating with the happy thrumming of spring in the air and Achilles by his side.

He presses a kiss to the corner of Achilles’ mouth.

“Of course,”

He’s at his brightest with Achilles. Honey tasted sweeter, ocean breeze saltier, and joy infinitely more brilliant. Patroclus feels as though he can experience every single emotion with Achilles by his side.

He doesn’t mind the pricks of negative emotions, because the happy ones are so much more beautiful this way. How could anyone not be their happiest, their brightest, their best next to Achilles? His sunshine gleams and reflects, never contained.

The boy in his arms that makes him fill with warmth just with a smile, with a glance. Patroclus constantly feels ablaze in the most beautiful way with Achilles by his side. Even without wings, he’s sure he is going to fly. Achilles makes him weightless, infallible.

“Do you ever feel like you can fly?” Achilles asks, snapping Patroclus out of his thoughts.

Patroclus pauses, “Yes,”

Patroclus doesn’t have to say ‘with you’ for Achilles to know.

“Good. I feel like I could conquer the world,” Achilles doesn’t have to say ‘with you’ for Patroclus to know.

So many times Patroclus feels as though they can say so much with a glance. He feels Achilles’ thoughts, feels his joy, feels his restlessness, feels his love. Feels all these emotions as if they are all his own.

Patroclus pushes a stray curl behind Achilles’ ear. He had asked Patroclus to braid it that morning. His golden curls have gotten longer, but he hasn’t wanted to cut it yet as Patroclus does more often. He doesn’t mind it getting in his eyes sometimes, Achilles is never wrong, surefooted in everything. A loose strand of hair means nothing.

Achilles leans into Patroclus’ touch. Back in Phthia, Patroclus yearned and ached for Achilles’ touch. Now he accepts it as freely as he gives it.

Patroclus pulls a blossoming flower from the half frozen ground, a miracle in the cold air. Just as they are a miracle themselves. He sets it in Achilles’ hair, where he had tucked the curl. 

He thinks this is what Icarus must have last seen. A moment so bright, it could have burned, but all it does is sear itself into Patroclus’ memory. He decides he would never forget this. Achilles surrounded by the impossible, yet creating a miracle every time. Achilles is the miracle. The reason for Patroclus to burn so brightly. He reflects off of aristos achaion. 

To be filled with a joy so bright is a dangerous thing, Patroclus decides. He thinks of Icarus again. Was he not proof that to burn so brightly could be a downfall? It scares Patroclus to think that Achilles may meet a fate similar to Icarus’ one day for he shines brighter than anyone Patroclus has ever seen. 

However, Achilles is sharp, never wrong. Patroclus never thinks long about demise, about downfall. He’s happy, on fire with it. The feeling would have been overwhelming, but Achilles holds onto Patroclus. Never lets him get close enough to the sun to set ablaze. He feels the heat, the warmth through his body. Flying just close enough to the sun to feel the heat, but never allowing him to fall.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Sappy boys in love on Mount Pelion is always on my mind when I think of Patrochilles, which is 24/7! 
> 
> Title is from Icarus by Bastille, which seems fitting :')
> 
> A huge thank you to [Katofightclub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katofightclub/pseuds/Katofightclub) for betaing for me!


End file.
